


All the Doors I Had to Close

by Telesilla



Series: We're Flesh and Bone Together and Alone [2]
Category: Baseball RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, written for a tumblr prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 10:44:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3378611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telesilla/pseuds/Telesilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What the fuck am I doing?" Buster mutters. "I had a <em>plan</em>."</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Doors I Had to Close

**Author's Note:**

> for a prompt from [sophiahelix](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sophiahelix/pseuds/sophiahelix): _High school Buster/Tim: first night away from home together_ Obviously there's some major stuff that happened between the first fic in the series and this one. For any number of reasons, Tim and Buster are driving across the country in Buster's brand new truck.

Buster asks for a room at the end of the building and flashes a smile at the woman behind the counter in the motel office. "Been driving all day," he says as she looks very closely at his driver's license. He's nineteen but he knows he doesn't look it and he doesn't know if there's a legal age for getting a motel room. Eventually, though, she smiles back and hands him the license. 

"You need somethin' for that lip, honey?"

"It's okay," Buster says, instinctively reaching up to press at the split in his lip. "You should see the other guy," he says, remembering the line from countless movies. It works; she just laughs and gives him a key.

Once Buster drops Tim off at the room, he goes back out to get food. The town's small--there's a McDonald's, a DQ and a chicken place. There was a Cracker Barrel back near the exit, but that shit's for the tourists and travelers. The chicken place, on the other hand, is the real deal. Even as he orders, Buster can't wait to see what Tim makes of chicken and waffles. He's pretty sure you don't get that back in Seattle.

It hits him as he starts to walk back to the motel, take out bags in hand. There will be a lot of things you don't get in Seattle and the food's the least of it. He thinks of Tim, being made fun of in Leesburg long before anyone was sure he was gay. Buster's not stupid, he knows that his accent and his truck and his taste in music and the way he wears plaid unironically will stand out like a sore thumb. Then again, he probably won't get into too many violent fights over it, so maybe Tim's right to be a little smug.

"What the fuck am I doing?" he mutters. "I had a _plan_."

Buster can't remember who said that life was what happened when you were making different plans, but he always thought it was a stupid quote. Now?

Now he's got a brand new truck, a brand new bank account with money in it he promised his mom he'd repay, with interest, and a take out bag full of chicken and waffles. And a boyfriend, he thinks. A boyfriend waiting for him in a motel room of their very own. None of which, aside from maybe the truck, was a part of his life plan.

Boyfriend, he thinks. Hotel room. His heart isn't quite pounding but he's pretty nervous as he opens the door.

"Hey," Tim says, taking the bags from him. "Let me take those."

"What's with the lights?" What little light there is in the room is reddish; for some reason Tim's tossed one of his scarves over the lamp on the desk. "Is your head hurting? Are you...should we get you to a doctor?" Because that's all they need--Tim showing signs of a concussion a full day's drive from home.

"Jesus, Buster. I'm fine." Tim sets the take out on the desk and smiles at Buster. "It's okay."

He reaches out and takes Buster's hand while fumbling with something on the desk. It's a speaker, Buster realizes when music suddenly begins to play. 

"What are you....?"

"What do you think?" Tim slides his arms around Buster's waist and starts moving a little. "It's prom night."

Buster's not sure where to put his hands--usually he's the one with his arms around someone's waist--but finally he rests his hands on Tim's hips and just like that, they're slow dancing. Buster's a terrible dancer, but he can do this much at least. The song, he realizes after a second or two, is "Bless the Broken Road" and he stares down at Tim.

"You're dancing with me to Rascal Flats?"

"Is that who this is? I think Sam put a love song mix on your phone--it's got her name on it at least. I just went with it," Tim says. "Now shut up; we're having a moment."

Yeah, Buster thinks. Okay yeah.

They stay like through the end of the song and Buster's glad when the next song comes up, it's another slow one because he doesn't want to let go of Tim. He recognizes this one too and he can't help laughing just a little.

"What?"

"It's Rucker," Buster says. "And the song...it's kind of the same song as that first one." He pulls Tim in a little closer and Tim tightens his arms around Buster's waist. "About how all the things you do or don't do lead to where you are now."

"Alternate universes," Tim says, leaning his cheek against Buster's shoulder. 

"Kinda, yeah." 

They dance without speaking for a little while and then Tim says, soft and low, "I'm sorry. For earlier."

"Yeah, me too," Buster says. 

They're quiet again, but even before the song's over, Buster feels his face go hot. "Sorry," he mutters, and tries to change the angle of his hips. And wow, is this stupid or what? Dudes always complain about it happening during dances and the fact that it's never happened to him was always one more thing that he had to lie about. 

"Yeah, how dare you get turned on when we're pressed up against each other." 

"It's just...."

"Yeah, I know, but I'm not a girl."

"That's why it's happening." Buster gives up trying to move away and rubs up against Tim just a little. With a laugh Tim shifts position and there's his dick, hard against Buster's thigh. 

"How authentic does this need to be?"

"Huh?"

Tim bites at Buster's shoulder through his shirt. "Do we have to go make out in your truck? For the whole experience...."

"No, that's okay. But um...thanks for this. It...it means a lot." Buster leans down and kisses Tim. Behind them Alison Krauss starts singing "When You Say Nothing at All" and God is this their first real night alone? Buster's heart speeds up again. Aside from a couple of quick kisses grabbed when they had a little privacy, they've only done this twice.

Before he can think too much, he kisses Tim again and this time it might start out careful, but it doesn't stay that way for long. He loves that Tim kisses back like he wants it and fine, maybe he's actually had his mouth on Tim's dick, but it's the kissing like this that feels so fucking dirty. 

"Bed," Tim says and gives Buster a little shove. Surprised, Buster goes with it, falling backward onto the weird, slippery bedspread. He slides back on the bed a little and looks up as Tim straddles him. 

He's been looking at Tim all day, not to mention their last 48 hours back home when they saw a lot of each other, but the fading black eye and the purple bruise on Tim's jaw still make him wince. He can't help feeling guilty, but before it gets too bad, Tim grabs his shoulders and shakes him just a little.

"Cut it out. It's over."

It's not that easy and they both know it, but for now, Buster lets it go. "Okay," he says and then Tim's leaning down to kiss him again. "Wanna try something," Tim murmurs and Buster can feel Tim's lips move as he speaks.

"Anything," Buster says. Tim sits back up and keeps his eyes on Buster's as he digs in his pocket and pulls out a little plastic bottle. "Oh...." Buster breathes when he realizes what it is. His heart rate's up again but he just looks up at Tim and nods.

"Don't look so serious," Tim says. "I'm not gonna...I mean unless you really want me to. I thought we'd kinda...."

"Work up to it?" Buster says and Tim nods, looking almost as relived as Buster feels. "You ever?"

"No. But I watched a lot of porn and read some stuff."

"Yeah, me too." Buster reaches up and puts his hands on Tim's hips. "So what did you have in mind?"

"Thought I'd...um, you know, use my fingers a little."

And it's not that Buster hasn't done that to himself, but he's pretty sure it's like jerking off--a lot better when it's someone else. "Yeah," he says, rolling his hips a little. It presses his dick up against Tim's ass and they both catch their breaths. 

"Naked," Tim says. Reaching down he tugs at Buster's shirt, watching as the snaps pull apart. "Something to be said for hick fashion," he says. 

"Keep going," Buster drawls. "I got button fly jeans on too."

"Yeah well, I've seen your feet, cowboy. You can take your boots off yourself."

"You try spending half each game balanced on the balls of your feet...see how your feet look at the end of the season."

It's familiar banter now; it helps Buster calm down a little as Tim moves off him and starts pulling his own clothes off. Buster has to sit on the end of the bed to get his boots off and when he stands up to move them aside, Tim looks at him with big eyes. "Damn...."

Buster knows he looks good but there's something about the way Tim's looking at him that makes him feel just a little reckless. Like this whole thing isn't fucking reckless, he thinks. He stays standing at the foot of the bed and reaches down to unbuckle his belt and then, as Tim keeps staring at him, he hooks a thumb in his waistband and tugs just the right way. His jeans are old and then come undone nice and easy and all Buster can think is, thank God he put on a pair of boxer briefs this morning instead of wearing briefs.

"Next time you wear those jeans," Tim says, still staring. "Go commando."

"Yeah," Buster says. "I think I could do that."

It's kind of stupid because they see each other naked all the damn time. But, Buster thinks as he finishes getting undressed, this isn't a locker room full of dudes making fucking no homo jokes. And it's not something quick and hurried in Tim's bedroom either. They can _look_ at each other.

Tim's slim, but his arms are corded with muscle. He doesn't have much body hair and his skin isn't as pink as Buster's is and he's...huh. Maybe Buster looked a lot more then he thought, because Tim's body is familiar. Two years of watching Tim on the mound, watching him twist and stretch and take that long stride as he lets the ball go....

"What?"

"Just...you look good."

Is that what Tim sees, Buster wonders. A memory of Buster's body naked in the showers, and then his thighs and hands as Buster squats behind the plate waiting for Tim to throw each pitch? "I don't ever want you pitching to anyone but me."

"That's what you're thinking, like, right now?" 

"More that I know your body from watching you so close while you pitch. I'm not sure I like the idea of someone else knowing you like that." 

"While you, meanwhile, manage a whole staff?" Tim asks, but he's smiling as he says it. "And anyways you just gave me the perfect pick up line." He gives Buster a cheesy leer. "Why don't you get over here and catch for a little while."

"Oh God, you would go there."

"Baby, I've been going there in my dreams for over a year now," Tim says. He's still smiling, but Buster can see his cheeks get a little red as Buster settles back down on the bed. 

"Can I?" Tim asks, pushing a little on Buster's knee. Buster nods, but can't actually say anything as he spreads his legs and Tim settles in between them. 

"Tim," Buster says. "I don't know...." Tim looks confused, and Buster reaches down to rest a hand on Tim's bare thigh. "No, I want it, but...Dude, I'm gonna go off any second now."

"So?" Tim says and then, before Buster can say anything, Tim leans down and slides his mouth down over the head of Buster's dick.

"Fuck," Buster groans, fighting to keep his hips still and his ass on the bed. "Tim...Timmy, I wasn't joking...gonna...." Tim keeps sucking and Buster gives it up with a low groan. Tim swallows but when he sits up, he's wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand and God, that's come he's got on his lips. Buster's come. 

"Fuck," Buster says again. "Gonna fucking sprain my dick trying to get hard again." He reaches for Tim. "You want me to...oh hey, I saw this thing." He lies back against the pillow. "If you come up here and straddle my chest, I can...."

"Yeah," Tim says, but his eyes are wide.

"Too much?"

"Almost." But Tim's moving and suddenly Buster's kind of eye to eye, as it were, with Tim's dick. "What you said earlier," Tim says as Buster tries to figure out how to do this. "It's not gonna take...fuck! Oh God, your fucking mouth. Jesus, I'm...." Tim pushes in kind of hard when he comes and even while Buster's fighting not to gag, he's thinking that he wants to learn how to take it all.

"Shit," Tim says as he all but collapses on the bed. "I'm sorry."

Buster coughs a little and then grins at Tim. "What? It was hot." Tim gives him an odd look and reaches out to rest his thumb against the corner of Buster's eye. "Oh that," Buster says, only now realizing that his eyes are watering. "I gotta get better at it so that doesn't happen."

"Are you for fucking real?" Tim says. "Like, is this some freaky dream where I...I dunno wandered into a porno starring my big, jock crush?"

"Thanks for not saying big, dumb, jock."

"Yeah well, I don't have a big crush on...." Tim sighs. "Wow, sorry. Almost put my foot in it there."

"You know Brandon'd say you were right about him being big and dumb."

"Yeah, which is why people shouldn't say it. He does that a lot." 

"Nah, he knows his own self well enough to laugh it off like that. He's pretty fucking confident."

"Having a dick that big will do that to you," Tim says with a snicker. "How does Haylee even...I mean can she even get her hand around it?"

"Her hand and a lot more from what he says," Buster says. "I'll ask her for hints when I talk to them next." Buster rolls over and runs his hand through Tim's hair. "How about we not talk about Brandon right now, though?"

They kiss for a while until Buster finally has to pull back. "My lip," he says. "It's kinda killing me."

Tim takes Buster's chin in his hand and looks at Buster's mouth. "Yeah, that can't be comfortable."

"How's your head?"

"I don't have a concussion," Tim snaps. "Sorry. It does hurt a little."

"How about we eat now and I'll call the office and get the room for another day so we can sleep in?" Reaching up, Buster brushes Tim's hair back a little. "Fool around in the morning before we get back on the road."

"Okay."

The waffles are a little soggy but it's worth it to see the look on Tim's face as he opens the styrofoam box. "Chicken? And waffles? Is this just random or something?"

"Nope, deliberate. I don't know why, but it's a thing."

"Huh."

Later, as Buster's putting the paper plates and chicken bones into a trash bag, Tim grins at him. "I like it. I'm gonna miss the chicken here, though. Fried chicken in Seattle doesn't taste the same."

"Dunno why not, it's super easy. It just takes time."

"You can fry chicken?"

"Yeah. I can cook grits, fry chicken and fish, scramble eggs and make pancakes and waffles, grill a steak, make a pie from scratch, and some other stuff. Oh, and biscuits from scratch. Can you cook?"

"Some. I can do a decent stir without a recipe and do some pasta stuff--baked ziti and real macaroni and cheese, both stove top and baked. Oh and I make a really good grilled cheese."

"You like it with tomato soup?"

"Dude, that's the only way to eat a grilled cheese."

"We'll be fine," Buster says with a laugh.

"Yeah," Tim says and something about his voice and the smile on his face makes Buster's breath catch in his throat. "We will."

_-end-_

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thinking about this fic a lot, because I really liked these versions of the boys, but the problem is that, at 51, with no kids, let alone grandkids, I have a hard time writing about high school kids. I don't think high school's changed all that much in most ways, but my high school experience was kind of atypical for several reasons and I never actually went to my senior prom. And I've felt bad that I did the build up and then kind of pulled back and thought, I can't really write this. But lately, I've had the idea of them doing this sort of epic, just out of high school road trip from Leesburg to Seattle and I've talked about it a little on tumblr, which led to the prompt, which led to this fic. I plan on filling in the missing pieces, but I can't say when.
> 
> The title is from "This" by Darius Rucker, which is the second song mentioned in the story.


End file.
